Big Plans
by Lif61
Summary: Belphegor's thoughts as he helps out Team Free Will in 15x01 "Back and to the Future."


**A/N: Wrote this fic from Belphegor's point of view, so the tone of it _is_ fun, but it'll have a lot of dark and crude things in it.**

**WARNINGS: This fic contains the sexualization of a dead minor, possession as a rape metaphor, possession as a sexual metaphor, mention of non-con, mention of necrophilia, mention of incest, victim blaming, and gore.**

* * *

Belphegor sat in the back of a 1967 Chevy Impala, actually pretty happy with the three men he was sitting with: the Winchester brothers, and the angel Castiel. He'd outdone himself this time. Well, he didn't really come to Earth anyway. He'd _seen_ Earth with the use of a few devices strewn about Hell, and he'd heard about it from the souls that got put in front of him, and from some of his uh… bedfellows after he'd fucked them, and he hadn't been too impressed. People didn't seem that entertaining, but then he'd started reading about the Winchesters. Sure, they got the news down in Hell, and the boys were always up to something _delicious_: accidently starting an Apocalypse, opening up Purgatory, making the angels fall, getting black eyes every now and then, getting boned down by some angels and archangels (Sam more than once, and by a few demons, _mmph_), opening up rifts… all with Castiel at their side, Castiel who'd been human once. Poor, poor Castiel. He really was an abomination in that coat. If he switched to a leather jacket, really showed off those shoulders, and those biceps… _mm!_ But what really interested him were Carver Edlund's books. There were some excellent full-frontal descriptions in there. Sadly none of Cas, but Belphegor had eyes.

He almost laughed to himself. That's right, he didn't! But he could still see. Not like a vessel needed eyes for him to see. He could see even when he wasn't inhabiting a meatsuit. Eyes were a human construct, so lowly. If he could see when he was just a bunch of black smoke, why did he need fleshy balls with a lens, an optic nerve, and some other fun stuff to rip out to tell him what was in the world around him?

Even without the eyes, this new ride of his was one hell of a hot rod: long, elegant fingers, nice, fluffy hair, strong jawline, absolutely perfect lips, a lean figure he was sure the men and ladies must be tripping over themselves to get to. Well, he couldn't be too sure. His vessel was a virgin, hadn't gotten his cherry popped yet, but he felt different than most virgins. He'd been penetrated. Huh, he wondered why it didn't count. Maybe he'd been experimenting with himself.

Cool.

Belphegor leaned forward, adjusted the sunglasses and eyed himself in the rearview mirror.

"I mean, come on. I look good."

All he got was a glare from Castiel, uncomfortable tension from the others, and then he was ignored. So much for that. They went right back to business, so Belphegor pitched in. Why wouldn't he? He had to prioritize them even though he had his own goals.

Sure, he could see why Sam had been possessed so many times, wanted to study Dean and Castiel, and wanted some alone time with the head torturer in Hell, but if the suckers wanted to help humanity, then he was going to do it. As long as they couldn't see his eyes he was good to go.

Hell needed its souls back, and it needed new management, and Belphegor didn't think he was suited for it. With Castiel in the way he wasn't either, but maybe if he could leach his Grace, turn him into something less than human… And Dean, he could get him back down there again, and Sam, well, Sam had all but declared himself the unofficial king a year ago when he'd faced down Kip.

Kip, what a bastard.

Belphegor liked Hell with him gone. There were more souls to torture, prettier demons to fuck.

But with Sam ruling, he figured there'd be more fucking and torturing for everyone (maybe both at the same time), and Belphegor could be at his right hand, eyes perfect and yellow.

It was daytime when they got to the stupid town, and the flannel-wearing men and their beautiful angel set right to work helping, even with the blood that Belphegor could smell coming from Sam's shoulder.

Sam went straight to business, and Belphegor liked the sight of him walking away. What a nice ass he had, but he was soon drawn back to Dean, who was giving orders to Castiel (so that's how their relationship was going), "We can handle the evac, so why don't you grab Crowley Jr. here whatever he needs for the spell."

"No," Castiel growled.

Belphegor almost wanted to smile.

Was this how couples were fighting these days?

"What?"

"Dean, I can't. I-I… I can't even look at him." He finished with an, "Um… I…" and then left the car. Dean was clearly upset, also not wanting to look at him, but Castiel was gone before they could discuss it more.

Jeez, were these men that touchy about possession? Castiel had even mentioned the _defiling Jack's corpse_ bit earlier. Who gave a fuck? It was a body, hadn't grown cold yet, was open for business.

Besides, it wasn't like anyone was using it.

It was almost too bad there wasn't someone in there with him though. Belphegor liked to get personal, but now that he was alone with Dean…

He found himself looking around, observing people, enjoying them, and trying to find an opening.

"So, people are like, crazy good-looking now, huh?"

"What?"

Dean seemed startled by his topic of conversation, and not into it, but Belphegor decided to keep talking. "I mean, the last time I was on Earth, I mean, I was human. Ah, it was awhile ago. I mean, but you know, we were all worshipping this giant rock that looked like a huge penis, and…" (the good old days, and then the rock had been a symbol of him, and the offerings had been…) Belphegor nearly smiled thinking about it, but he decided to keep looking at people, two women together, a man and a woman, two men, oh Satan, they looked good.. "Anyway, folks back then, they were, uh, ugly, you know? Had a lot of humps. I mean, a lot. Look at 'em now." Now Dean was looking, eyeing some men along with him, seeming impressed. He definitely should be, though Belphegor wondered if the man was blind when he looked in a mirror. Time for his shot. "I mean, look at _you_. I mean, you're, uh, you know, gorgeous."

Dean stopped ogling the men, back stiffening.

"What?" He blinked a few times, confused; Belphegor could see it in the rearview mirror, and then he went on, "Okay, when are you gonna get out of that body?"

"Eh, when I find another one."

He didn't _want _to find another one, or get out of this body.

He wanted to fuck Dean while in this one. Have him drive to some secluded place, maybe behind an abandoned building, bend him over the hood of the car, tear his belt off, maybe whip him with it a few times before having him bite down on it, and then fuck him hard. Belphegor wasn't sure if he wanted there to be blood or not. Blood running down someone's thighs was always a beautiful sight that made him rock hard, but Dean was something special, and he couldn't tarnish that. Alistair's apprentice deserved proper treatment, but he'd heard rumors that he liked a little rough housing, and was a proper bitch. So maybe he'd like getting bloodied up a little.

Oh Satan, it was good to be in this body. Young, and healthy (except for the dead part, poor guy), and well able to contain Belphegor's strength and stamina.

Dean was going to be in for one hell of a time.

But ugh, to think of the other bodies that had been his choices upon his release…

Disgusting.

"I mean, I would've jumped at the cemetery, but all those meatsuits were a little too, uh, wormy. Difficult to blend, if you will."

Yeah, that'd sell it.

Who wanted a worm crawling in their eye socket, or eating their penis anyway?

"Yeah," Dean agreed half-heartedly.

Fuck, he was losing him.

"So, uh… who was… _he_, anyway?"

Words were then spoken that Belphegor hadn't even considered that made his brain do a whole one-eighty as he tried to process: "He was our kid… kinda."

Still not quite processing, but mouth moving anyway, he said, "Oh. Sorry."

The hell?

Three dicks, and one kid. It didn't make sense. And the body was _at least_ eighteen years old, and Sam was surely thirty-six meaning this kid would've had to been born when _he_ was eighteen. Secret love child? But Dean's kid too? Two brothers with a kid? Dean and Castiel's kid? Could male angels suddenly get pregnant now? If so, Belphegor wanted to watch.

He did look like Castiel…

And Dean had said _our_…

So Dean and Castiel's then. Aw, the angel and his pet human had a son. How cute and domestic. How _married couple_ of them. Well, it was what Belphegor wanted to study. _But_ it meant he couldn't fuck them like he wanted to, not while he was in this hot, _hot_ body.

Damn it!

He liked it in here. All nice, and warm, and young, and… and… and _sexy_. He was sexy! And Dean was sexy!

Maybe he could get over the whole _he was our kid_ thing, and bone down anyway.

No, he'd never go for that.

Belphegor couldn't go for that. He had standards.

Fuck.

_Great, what a fucking fun situation you've got yourself into this time, Bel._

"Alright, so what do you need for this spell?"

This time Belphegor was actually glad Dean was getting back on track with saving poor, helpless humanity.

"You know, nothing much. Big bag of salt."

"Easy."

"And a… And a human heart."

Belphegor saw Dean's stomach sink, but his own spirits lifted, excited that he'd finally get to be doing something around here. He could get back to his plans later. Somehow, in some way, everything would come together.


End file.
